Last Morning Star
by Iko.Willows
Summary: A set of drabbles originally written for an rp on xanga... Set in various charas povs. I AM TAKING REQUESTS for further drabbles. I have done: Jacob, EsmexCarlise, and Rosalie.
1. Jacob's Anguish

I'm back! I know, it's been forever... But, just to let you know, for starters, I am not in any way making money off of this! This is a pass-time for me that I indulge in. Like chocolate. Cause it's nice at the time, but gets you addicted.

cough ANYWAY. I wrote these originally as a way to prove I was literate enough for a Twilight RP on xanga (You can find it at http://weblog. - WE BADLY NEED PEOPLE, SO JOIN IT PLEASE. 3). I hope you like...

PS, WHEN YOU REVIEW please tell me who you want to see next, 3 That would make me so happy!

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... Jacob huddled in the cave, no longer in his wolf form. If he wasn't a werewolf, he was sure he'd be frostbitten by now - it was cold and he had no spare clothes. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was hungry and tired, but he didn't want to sleep for fear of nightmares.

He didn't want to go back, either... He was sure Paul would heckle him to no end about it. Jacob was vaguely glad that Sam had let him run on his own and let him vent his grief privately to the un-empathetic moon.

"Bella," he whispered, burying his head in his hands. A flash of gold eyes moved behind his lids and he growled, feeling his pelt shift beneath his skin.

"Cullen." It was all his fault... all that stinking, blood-sucking bastard's fault!

Jacob exploded and tore up the cave - rocks were thrown and the floor, ceiling, walled were gouged by his mighty claws. He settled again, still as a wolf - he could feel Sam somewhere there, quietly trying to keep out of the way, but still there now.

"I want to kill Cullen," he whimpered to the older werewolf, and Sam sighed back mentally.

"I know. We all do."

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Dont forget to review and give me input, please! Next addition is Esme and Carlisle Cullen.


	2. A Parent's Pain

I do not own anything or anyone Stephanie Meyer's writes. Sadly. But it's true. I just write drabbles. So yeah. I made no money off of this and I owe brilliant Stephanie Meyers for giving me the inspiration to write using her beautiful characters and plot...

Now, as I told you with Jacob's story, these are short one-shots I made. They are not entirely original, but they are meant to cast light on what other people were thinking and feeling during various moments of the series.

SPOILERS FOR NEW MOON.

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"It's alright, Esme, dearest, love," the blonde doctor tried to console her, but she continued to pace frantically about the room.

Alice had just informed them of the terrible events - Edward, thinking that his love had killed herself, was going to the Volturi to be ripped to shreds. And burned. And all those nasty sorts of things.

And it really wasn't okay, despite what the good doctor had said. He hated it - every cold piece of his un-aging body hated it. His firstborn, HIS son, his Edward had tossed out all rationality in favor of pursuing a fruitless and dark path.

"How could she?" Esme cried, finally sitting on the floor heavily. He beautiful face remained beautiful, despite her pain, but Carlisle found it heartbreaking all the more. "How could Rosalie do that?"

"It's no more her fault than it was yours or Alice's," Carlisle said, forcing his voice to be controlled and calm, like it was nothing more than a hospital emergency. "Bella and Alice are going to fix it and bring him back, don't worry."

Their hearts quivered uncertainly, and they held each other those long, three days as they waited for their son to return.

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_((Whew, that was fun! XD I spent a half-hour researching the proper spelling of "Volturi" when I could have taken five minutes to retrieve my lovely copy of New Moon... But it was fun. I hope you like how I've interpreted Esme and Carlisle - in private, I kind-of think of them as very close and emotional.))_


	3. Angel, Prince

Uwah, Rosalie. This woman is probably one of the hardest to write for. Honestly. However, music is a lifesaver. I was on Stephanie Meyer's official site, and she has a section called "playlist", where I found the music she used as fuel for her writing. One of the musical artists that inspired her was "Dido"… So what do I do? I go on a Dido spree. One of the songs I found was a melancholy and bitter plea called "Hunter". Something clicked with me, and I instantly thought "ROSALIE." O.o

_If you were a king upon your throne_

_Would you be wise enough to let me go?_

_For this queen you think you own_

_Wants to be a hunter again_

_I want to see the world alone again_

_To take a chance on life again_

_So let me go_

_Let me leave…_

_And the crown you've placed upon my head_

_Feels too heavy now_

_And I don't know what to say to you_

_But I smile anyhow_

_And all this time I've been think-… thinking…_

-Dido, "Hunter"

At any rate, now you know what this was inspired by. If you listen to the song while you read it, I'll have accomplished my goal. XD

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I was sick of this house.

I broke the mirror again, smiling bitterly as I heard Edward shift in his room and Carlisle quietly trying to calm him. I didn't care if that brat was angry with me – I had done what I wanted, and as long as I felt better, everything was fine. I hadn't killed anyone. I never kill anyone now that I don't have reason to.

I hated Edward.

I hated Denali.

I hated Tanya.

I hated this house.

I hated Carlisle.

… But then again, I really couldn't hate Carlisle. It was just took too much effort to do so. He was gentle and patient with me, and I was yet young. I sighed, pushing that sweet air out of my lungs. It would never give me life again. I held my breath for a long time, waiting for the tight feeling in your chest that you get when you drown, but that feeling never came. I breathed in and my lungs inflated.

"I'm going to hunt," I said to the room, but I knew that the boys could hear me through the walls. I hated this house. I could hear the hushed voices of the others, downstairs, female lilts and laughs and angelic tones that made my stale blood almost boil back to life. I was beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, much more so than even those Denali sisters of mine, but, as the broken mirror was testament to, I would rather be dead than this beautiful without someone to worship me.

That was the hardest part. I hated Edward, but I was sure I'd hate him less if he pined for me. In Tanya's clan, the males already had their mates, and while they spared glances at my beauty, they didn't satisfy my need to be the center of someone's world.

I was out the window in a flash – Alaska was cold, but not to vampires. Back when I was human, I was always cold. Men tore their coats off, so fast that they often tore, whenever I gave the slightest shiver.

And now, the only thing that was cold in me couldn't be touched by a blanket or a coat or even a hug… It lay still and dead in my chest, without use any longer, frozen in its duty.

I growled deep in my chest as I dashed through the trees. My golden hair blazed behind me and my golden eyes flashed with anger (I was always angry). A smell of blood hit me like a wall and I stopped, shocked back against a tree for support. It was human blood… I heart the angry call of a grizzly and I felt my feet pulling me foreword.

Humans were not supposed to be this far into the Alaskan wilderness! The Denali tribe had settled here to make it less tempting! My thirst began to claw at my insides, and I opened my mouth, which was a dire mistake. I stumbled on towards the screaming and the blood and the bear, which I had no doubt I could take down with a simple flick of my wrist. The scent wafted to me and I wavered, digging my nails into a tree nearby and ribbing out the bark. I hissed and tried to turn back, but the calls for help were getting weaker…

I suddenly found myself _there_, in that small alcove in the trees. The grizzly towered over its prey, roaring and preparing for the final blow.

I breathed out, a soft _whoosh_ of air. Something clenched at my heart as I took in the details of the young man's face is mere seconds.

"Henry-" I whispered before I was on top of the bear, ripping it's throat out with my bare hands. I drank as I killed, realizing somewhere in my busy brain that I needed to get that boy back to Carlisle… before he died. My insides seized again and I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. My dinner could wait – my future would not. He lay there in the snow, only partly conscious. I scooped him up and snorted – had I been human, he would have weighed four times my weight, but this way, he was like a simple piece of carry-on luggage.

My plane would depart soon, and if I didn't get this luggage on board, it would be lost forever. The run through the woods seemed agonizingly long – his scent, his bloody but stranglely masculine scent filled my nostrils, but I pushed myself to keep going and I refused to look at him. I could feel his warmth seeping into my clothes, and I clung to it desperately, praying that I could make it before he died.

_Later, Emmett told me I was his angel. His world, his only love, his very heart. I had smiled at him and held him close to me as I whispered,_ "My prince."

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This one is a lot longer and a little stranger than the others... reviews are welcome, requests are very welcome, and I hope you all HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR.


	4. Sweet Sleep

Another one! This one is inspired by the story Carlisle told to Bella as he stitched up her hand in New Moon.

I shut my eyes tight as the boy continued to sob in the bed. He twitched and writhed, in agony due to the venom coursing through his system. Another brief stab of guilt shot through me.

I had tried, all these years, to be good... to resist the smell, resist the thirst, and I was proud that I had, by now, saved more lives than I had taken in my time. Now I was ashamed - my loneliness had won over my better judgment.

I fought with myself the whole time the boy, Edward, was in his last throes of life. Yes, his mother had given me that last, desperate plea for his life, but what would he think once he awoke? Once he found out what I had made him? Would he be grateful for honoring his mother or angry that I had condemned him?

I leaned my head back against the wall and sighed. I wished I could sleep, for the first time since I left the Volturi. Sleep would be a nice relief now. If I could sleep, I would dream.

And maybe, if I dreamed, I'd feel a little more human again.

Uwah, hope you like. He's a bit of a challenge to write for. 3


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